


followed by a moonshadow

by girlmarauders



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolf, M/M, Making Out, Werewolf Team, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-10
Updated: 2018-11-10
Packaged: 2019-08-21 18:00:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16581347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/girlmarauders/pseuds/girlmarauders
Summary: Being on a team with a lot of werewolves had a lot of weird moments, but Tyson was used to it now.





	followed by a moonshadow

**Author's Note:**

> the title comes from [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kGNxKnLmOH4) song by cat stevens.
> 
> thanks to growlery and frecklebomb for helping make this happen.

Tyson looked at the dog.

“Absolutely not, I already cleaned out all the dog hair from last time,” he said firmly.

The dog whined, dropping his head pitifully. He was a big golden retriever, shaggy all over, and a dark golden colour. Tyson waved a finger at him.

“Stop it, I know you're doing that on purpose, there's a perfectly good dog bed right there.” He pointed to the bed in the corner of his bedroom, but the dog's head didn't move, just kept looking up at Tyson, clearly begging. Ugh, fine. Nate had him wrapped around his little finger, or paw, or whatever, and he knew it. He whined again.

“Fine,” Tyson said, throwing himself backwards from sitting to lying down, his head smushing a pillow loudly. “But only on top of the blankets, you monster. Get up here.”

Nate yipped once, and then scrambled up onto the bed, draping himself bodily over Tyson’s legs. He was already warm, and Tyson knew he was going to wake up sweaty and uncomfortable in a few hours, underneath the insulting pile of hair that was Nate at this time of the month.

He let his head fall back and closed his eyes, willing himself to sleep. He could hear Nate panting happily. Being best friends with a werewolf had a lot of weird moments. He was at peace with it.

&&&

The Avs had a _lot_ of werewolves on the team. Like, way more than normal. Most teams had a couple, because all the places where hockey was popular were also places where werewolves were common, but the Avs had 10, over a full third of the roster. Tyson had known there'd be a lot of werewolves when he'd got drafted, but in the normal fashion of teenagers he hadn't fully realised that it would affect him. It definitely did, especially when Gabe and Nate both came over and transformed in his backyard so they could fucking, commune with the moon or whatever it was they did together as wolves, and left Tyson with all the fucking grilling.

He poked the meat with the tongs. Grilling out with a couple of werewolves didn't mean ‘a couple of steaks’ so much as ‘a giant pile of meat’ and Tyson always irrationally worried he was gonna find a whole squirrel among the cuts. Nate swore up and down he'd never eaten a squirrel but Tyson knew he also lied about what he did as a dog all the time.

Someone barked next to him, and he jumped. He turned and waved his tongs at Gabe.

“Do not fucking do that man, I have _told_ you!” he said grumpily. Gabe yipped, and Tyson rolled his eyes. He was not getting chirped by a dog. It was undignified.

‘Dog’ was a bit of an understatement when it came to Gabe. Growing up in Canada hadn’t been enough to counteract his natural European wolfiness, and he was even bigger than Nate. He came up to Tysons waist, and had shoulders like a bear. Tyson had expected him to be the same golden colour as Nate, but instead he was covered in silver and grey fur that made him look nearly twice his size. When he was mad, his growl lit up a small gibbering hind part of Tyson’s brain, but right now he just looked like a goober, begging Tyson for a treat.

“No,” Tyson said firmly, resisting the urge to boop Gabe on the nose with the tongs. Gabe had a prickly sense of dignity as a wolf, and could also probably tear Tyson limb from limb if he wanted. Not that he would, but Tyson didn't exactly want to press the issue. “You can eat this when you're human, and not before. I know you're not hungry, I watched you eat lunch.”

Gabe whined, but probably understood that Tyson was serious for once. He stopped begging and raced past his legs to leap on Nate. North American werewolves were a lot smaller than their European cousins, and took after big dogs more than they did wolves. Being smaller as a wolf was a perpetual source of wounded pride to Nate as a human, but dogs didn't really subscribe to the toxic tenants of masculine pride, and when Gabe pounced on him, Nate immediately rolled over to play. They wrestled for the rest of the grilling, growling and yelping and scratching the fuck out of Tyson’s grass, until he banged his tongs against the metal railing around his patio.

“Hey, losers, it’s meat time,” he shouted, and both of them came bounding, starting to transform as they ran. Tyson looked away. Watching a transformation was neither polite, nor pleasant. Tyson might have a professional requirement to watch people get injured, but he wasn’t watching anyone’s bones bend that way in his free time. Tyson grabbed the two sets of swim shorts off the loungers on his patio, and threw them over his shoulder. When he turned around, Nate was stepping into the them, but Gabe was holding his in his hand, completely naked.

“Oh my god,” Tyson said. “Put the goddamn pants on, I am not letting your bare ass sit on my furniture.”

Gabe wrinkled his nose.

“They smell weird,” he said. Nate made a face Tyson knew he thought was helpful, and nodded.

“It’s the chlorine,” he said. Tyson jabbed his tongs at Gabe, even though he was well out of reach.

“If you want special weirdo shorts, you can get them from the house yourself,” he said. Gabe shrugged and dropped the swim shorts, walking across the patio and through the open glass doors into Tyson’s living room. Tyson watched him go. It was a good view.

When he turned around, Nate was looking in the same direction, and his tongue was hanging out of his mouth. He wasn't drooling but he definitely gave off the thematic impression of drooling. Tyson gestured threateningly at him.

“Put your tongue back in your mouth Mac, you're not an animal.” he said, and went to dish food off the grill. Nate followed and grinned, not at all caring he'd been caught in the act.

“I kind of am, that's the whole point,” he said, but shut up when Tyson put a plate of meat and corn on the cob in his hands. He was easy to please.

Gabe came out of the house a few minutes later, wearing a pair of Tyson’s workout shorts that he had definitely stolen from his closet. Tyson sighed. He put up with so much bullshit.

The three of them ate in companionable silence for a while, no one wanting to be the first to interrupt what was clearly food time. Eventually, once they'd eaten enough that the pace slowed down, they bickered about the new plays from yesterday's practice, using table implements to diagram out the ice. They had been losing a lot, but it was still early in the season, and they had reason to hope things would get better. It was the full moon that night and Tyson had to listen to some in depth discussion about the planned werewolf team bonding. It was alright. He was used to the pattern by now, the rhythm of the locker room's moods that moved in perfect sync with the phases of the moon. He was hardly the only human on the team, but all of them felt the jittery nerves that was the couple of days before the moon, the intense feeling of relief afterwards, the boundless energy of the moon’s fullest days. They were victims of the game schedule sometimes, but especially this year: they played some of their toughest matches as the moon waned, when all the wolves struggled with the strange malaise of the new moon.

They cleaned away the plates and Tyson wiped down the grill while Nate and Gabe stripped their shorts off. At the moon’s peak, they didn't like to go more than a few hours without transforming. They play-fought in the yard for a while, Gabe letting himself be pinned for a moment before he rolled and snapped and shook Nate off, both of them yapping at each other nonstop. Eventually, Nate gave up trying to pin Gabe down, and nosed out the slobbery tennis ball he always left underneath the bushes. He rolled it over to Tyson’s foot, and Tyson looked at it for a moment before he picked it up gingerly. It was very slobbery.

“I am such a good friend,” he told Nate’s expectation-laden expression, and threw the ball in a straight line down the back yard. Nate shot off after it, and Tyson steeled himself to play fetch for however long it took until Nate got tired of it.

&&&

Tyson felt absolutely no regrets about skating circles around EJ next practice. Right after the full moon was about the only time werewolf conditioning didn't have the better of him, and EJ looked hungover as he dragged himself around the ice.

“Long night?” Tyson asked, when they were getting off the ice. EJ made a disgruntled noise.

“I hate rookies,” he said grumpily. “So much fucking running. I'm 29, I'm too fucking old to fucking howl at the moon all night.”

G was in front of them, and he looked over his shoulder.

“You don't hate me right?” he said, grinning. EJ reached over and ruffled his hair.

“You're my exception rookie,” EJ said, “I hate all the rest.”

“Hate the rest of what?” Josty asked, catching the end of the conversation as they clumped into the locker room. EJ stuck his tongue out through the gap in his teeth, an expression that always made people pull back. Tyson was kind of used to it, but EJ used it indiscriminately to freak out new players.

“Rookies,” he said, and Josty’s hopeful expression fell.

“Well that's just rude,” JT said, over Josty’s shoulder, pulling off his chest protector.

“I'm a very rude person,” EJ said. “You should get used to it.”

“I'll show you rude,” JT said incomprehensibly, and tried to whip EJ with a towel. It backfired spectacularly when EJ retaliated by racing through pulling his layers off and then threw himself at him mid-transformation, so that both of them went down in a tangled play-fight, half-human, half-dog. Tyson winced when JT transformed. There was no way those shorts were going to survive.

He pulled his stuff out of the way of the play-fight, already ignoring the yelping. None of the werewolves liked being called dogs, but Tyson had spend most of his adult life around them now and they definitely _looked_ like dogs. EJ definitely fucking looked like a Mastiff, even if he tried to be dignified and say he was a wolf. JT was a big, shaggy grey dog, who managed about 30 seconds of play fighting before EJ pinned him and gave him a good shake as a lesson.

Tyson made sure all his pads and gear were stored in his stall, and then sidled past the fight. Everyone worked out moon fever in their own way. He was used to it. He snapped his fingers in front of G, who was staring.

“C'mon G, shower time,” he said, and then dragged G away by his shoulder. It was rude to stare.

&&&

Tyson didn't see all the stuff leading up to it, because he was busy watching the puck and contrary to Gabe’s accusations he did not only watch Nate from the bench, but he definitely saw G reel from the punch, and Rinaldo’s follow through.

He had exactly enough time to think “oh fuck" before EJ skated in at top speed and everything went downhill really fast. He grabbed Nail’s shoulder and pulled them both over the boards, because it wasn't like anyone was playing the fucking game anymore, and started trying to both participate and not get hit or involved in any way. It was a difficult line to walk in a big fight but worth it in reduced punches to the face. Tyson liked his face. He wanted to keep it.

He was looking towards the centre of the maelstrom of a fight and then he heard the familiar sucking sound. Crap, who was transforming? They'd get a fucking penalty and that was all they needed right now.

Then a Mastiff struggled out of EJ’s jersey and tried to take a dive at Rinaldo. That went about as well as a dog trying to fight on ice could go, and EJ slid across the ice with a wounded yelping sound. Nate was still on two feet and was trying to get past the Yotes and at Rinaldo, but the refs had seen someone had transformed and were getting serious about breaking it up. Tyson released the Yote he'd been holding onto, and skated over to help G off the ice. He looked a little shaken, but there wasn't any blood, and he focussed fine when Tyson looked in his eyes.

EJ snarled, the sound ripping over the sound of whistles and shouts. It was an inhuman, animal sound, and full of pent up rage. G shook his head, sending sweat flying from his hair.

“Someone needs to tell EJ I'm okay,” he said. Tyson kept a hand between his shoulder blades and pushed him towards the bench.

“Someone can tell him when he gets out of the box,” Tyson said, and pushed again. “He can't hear you right now.”

Someone on the bench grabbed G and pulled him through the opening. Tyson looked over his shoulder. EJ’s back legs had gone out from underneath him, slippering on the ice, and he was still trying to get enough purchase to go after Rinaldo, who was letting a ref herd him into the box.

Nate and Gabe, both of them breathing hard, skated over to EJ and screened him into their box, Gabe pulling back his lips and snarling with his square human teeth when EJ didn't go fast enough. Eventually, EJ pawed over the step into the box, and behind the screen that let him transform back and dress in a tiny amount of privacy. Tyson clapped G on the back of his shoulder, when they both settled back on the bench to watch some 4-on-4.

“Your first wolf on the ice, eh?” he said, and G smiled, and ducked his head. Tyson tightened his gloves around his stick. Mac was going to skate circles around these idiots and he couldn’t wait to see it.

&&&

They lost the next game, and then the next one, and the next one after that, and then it just kept happening, no matter what they tried. It was embarrassing. Tyson had lost hockey games before, hell, he had lost lots of hockey games before, but this was ridiculous. It was annoying, and then it was sort of bleakly humorous, and then it was just depressingly expected, like oh god, of course, we lost again. He couldn’t even say he hated it because it happened for so long you couldn’t feel just one thing, you could only feel hollowed out and empty. Work out, eat, practice, nap, get on the ice, lose, sleep, repeat.

They lost 4-1 in St. Paul, and they all clomped slowly through to the change room. Tyson caught a glimpse of Gabe’s face, tense and cramped through his jaw. He looked over when they were both untying their skates, and Gabe paused, resting his head on his knees, his knuckles white around his laces.

Tyson pulled his feet out of his skates and tucked them under his stall. He peeled off his skate socks, gross, and shoved his feet into his slides. He was wearing his leggings still, but nothing else. He grabbed a dry towel off the pile on the bench, and then shuffled over to Gabe’s side. He hadn’t made any further progress in getting undressed, even as some of the guys were headed into the showers.

“Hey,” he said quietly. Gabe looked up, raising his eyebrows. He looked exhausted.

“What Tyson?” he said. Tyson reached out and touched his shoulder, feeling the sweaty ends of his hair. Wolves were tactile, expressive people, and Gabe usually touched him whenever he had the opportunity.

“Want to watch a movie later?” he asked, shrugging. It was their usual code for fooling around in each other's rooms on the road, but Tyson found himself suddenly not caring if they ended up screwing. He just didn't want to be on his own.

Gabe blew out a big breath of air.

“I'm pretty tired Tys,” he said, apologetically. Tyson pulled his hand back from Gabe’s shoulder and waved it.

“No, just to hang out,” he said. “We don't have to _do_...anything. We can just...hang out.”

Gabe looked up at him, still looking like he'd been run ragged.

“Okay,” he said, as if he didn't have the energy to argue. Tyson nodded.

“Great,” he said, and scratched one of his knuckles across the shape of Gabe’s scalp. This time, Gabe leaned into it. They smiled at each other, and then Tyson shuffled off to the showers.

They had a team dinner after the game, just all of them crowded around a big table at a steakhouse. Bednar made a quick speech, and it didn't make up for the loss, or the string of them, or any of the other shitty things that were happening, but it was an effort and Tyson supposed that was what mattered. There were worse coaches to be stuck with through a losing streak.

Tyson and Gabe hung back as they made their way back to the hotel, and let everyone else grab the first couple of elevators, until it was just the two of them. Tyson shouldered into Gabe’s personal space, kissing the line of Gabe’s neck. He kind of thought they were going to make out, but instead Gabe just tucked his head down and shoved his nose into Tyson’s neck. Tyson yelped. It had been cold outside, and Gabe’s nose hadn't warmed up.

“Sorry, sorry,” Gabe mumbled, not pulling back and tightening his arms around Tyson’s middle. He breathed deeply. “You smell good,” he said, into Tyson’s neck.

Tyson snorted.

“I smell like the rink,” he said. “You’re just tired, c’mon, let's go lie down.”

Tyson detangled himself from Gabe’s grip, and pushed him gently out the elevator. Gabe didn't usually scent anyone. Tyson had seen him do it a couple of times, to his sister when she came to see a game, and to Mikko once when he was hurt. He'd never done it to Tyson before, even when they were fucking, even when they were cuddling the morning after. It was a bit of a revelation for it to happen for the first time in a hotel elevator.

In the hallway, Gabe had unlocked the door to his room and was holding it open.

“Coming?” he asked, and Tyson trotted to catch up with him.

In the room, Gabe barely waited for the door to close before he pulled his shirt off. His eyes were already darkening with the first effects of the transformation, a growl starting up in the back of his throat, and Tyson ducked into the bathroom to give him some privacy.

A few minutes later, as Tyson was staring at the individually wrapped toiletries, he heard Gabe yip loudly, and then scratch at the bathroom door.

“I'm coming, I'm coming,” Tyson said, when Gabe yipped again. “Keep your fur on, geez.”

He pushed the bathroom door open, and Gabe had to scramble on four legs to get out of the way. Gabe sat back on his haunches and yipped, his tongue hanging out past his teeth. His gold eyes weren't human, but Tyson could recognise emotion in them anyway. Maybe they looked like wolves or dogs, but you could never forget they weren't wild animals. Gabe pawed forward and butt his head against Tyson’s leg, pushing him towards the bed.

When he sat, Gabe pushed himself up onto his hind legs and then scrambled up onto the bed beside him, his paws pushing at the comforter.

“Okay, I get the message,” Tyson said, when Gabe whined at him. He toed off his shoes and schooched up the bed until he could lean against the headboard. Gabe whuffed out a big breath, and then flopped across Tyson’s outstretched legs.

“Ooof,” Tyson said, the breath knocked out of him. Gabe was a big boy. Tyson reached up a hand to rest his hand on the thickest part of Gabe’s mane, and laughed when he shook his head to make Tyson pet him. “Yeah, yeah, you just keep me around for the petting,” he said, and ran his fingers through Gabe’s fur, and Gabe made a humming happy dog noise.

They lay like that for a while, Tyson zoning out while he sunk into the repetitive motion of petting. Gabe didn’t transform very often when it was just the two of them. Usually they had other things on their mind (mostly fucking) but this was almost peaceful. He didn’t need to talk, because Gabe couldn’t talk back, and could only sort of understand him. He only had to lie there and pet him and think about nothing. They kept losing. He didn’t really wanna think about anything.

Someone knocked on the door. Gabe sighed loudly, and looked up at Tyson. The message was clear: Tyson wasn't getting any help from him, and he wasn't moving.

“Come in!” he shouted, and the door pushed open with a click. Nate stuck his head around the wall that made the small entryway. He smiled at Tyson, his legs still pinned by Gabe, who yipped and panted happily at Nate.

“Hey, is this a private pity party?” Nate said. Tyson ran his fingers through the thickest part of Gabe’s fur at the back of his neck.

“Nah, you're good, close the door,” Tyson said.

“Close your eyes,” Nate said, as he pulled his shirt over his head, the door clicking behind him. Tyson stuck his tongue out.

“I see you naked all the time,” He said.

Nate wrinkled his nose.

“That's different,” he said grouchily. Tyson sighed dramatically and raised one of his hands over his eyes. He kept his eyes closed. He complained but he wasn't gonna watch Nate change if he didn't want him to. The now-familiar sucking sound resonated from the other side of Tyson’s hand, and then he could hear Nate scrabbling at the side of the bed, panting.

Tyson pulled his hand away. Nate’s giant stupid tongue was hanging out his mouth, past his big pointy teeth. Gabe turned his head halfheartedly to growl at him when he got close, but Tyson pet his head reassuringly.

“C'mon boys, don't fight, there's enough of me to go round,” he said. When they were wolves, it didn't really matter what he said, just the tone in which he said it. Nate had described it to him: “I know what you're saying,” he'd said. “It just feels really unimportant.”

Nate crawled up the bed, and threw his neck over Gabe’s back, wiggling to be close to both of them. He whined pitifully, and Tyson reached out to pat his head. His legs would start falling asleep soon, but it wasn’t like he could go anywhere with two giant wolves forcefully cuddling him.

He let his head rest back against the pillow and, completely without meaning to, dozed off.

&&&

Nate and Gabe came over again during the new moon. It was too deep into winter to grill anymore, so he just loaded up his oven with burgers and bought a bunch of sides from the supermarket. They didn’t bother with his dining room, and ate bent over the coffee table, watching the tv. Gabe loudly vetoed game highlights, and then any sports related content at all, until Nate argued him around to golf, as an acceptable middle ground.

Tys didn't really care about golf, but it was alright to have in the background while they talked. It was an absolute trashbag of a season, and Tyson had skim-read, against his better wisdom, three articles just that morning absolutely convinced he was about to be traded. He wedged himself deeper in the sofa cushions. Thinking about it only made it worse. Gabe put his hand on the back of the sofa so the tips of his fingers brushed against the skin at the back of Tyson’s neck. He was already leaning against Nate’s side, his head resting on the solid block of muscles that was Nate’s bicep. He had touchy friends who were also werewolves. It was pretty great from a cuddling perspective.

He felt worn down, and sleepy, in the heavy way you felt when you were sad and lethargic. His eyes fluttered close in long blinks, but he knew he wouldn't sleep.

“Hey,” Gabe said, pressing his fingers against Tyson’s neck. He turned his head towards him, slowly, and Gabe leaned in, smiling at him, kissing him gently, just a slow gentle dry kiss, the same sensation as warmly falling asleep. When they pulled apart, Tyson sighed, exhaling gently. Gabe looked happy. He didn't look happy a lot right now. Tyson tried to commit it to memory. It was a good view.

The TV was quiet, and the sound of their quiet breathing, the sub-vocal sound of the kisses. After a few minutes, Tyson turned over slowly, and Nate was rigid, his eyes locked on the tv. One of his hands was resting on his thigh, his fingers white at the ends where they dug into the meat of his leg.

“I can go,” Nate said quietly, finally turning to look at Tyson. He’d slumped down in the sofa, and he could feel the present warmth of Gabe along his back. Both of them, Nate and Gabe, were always warm, running hot no matter the season.

“Wait,” Tyson said, pushing himself to sitting. They were literally the worst team in the league, and weren’t getting better any time soon. What did any of them have to lose? There was nowhere to go but up. “Nate,” he said.

Nate looked back at him, and Tyson reached out. He didn’t feel nervous at all. What was there to be nervous about? His fingers touched Nate’s shoulder, and then his hand curled around the hard muscle of his deltoid and pulled him inwards, towards Tyson. The movement felt like it took an age, through it couldn’t have taken more than a few seconds, and then Nate’s nose touched his, softly, and Tyson tipped his head up and to the side, exposing his neck and pressing his lips carefully against Nate’s.

For a second, no one moved, and Tyson felt like _he_ had the werewolf senses, he could hear Gabe’s breathing, and the soft skin-sounds of his and Nate’s lips pressed together. Nate took a breath, and then pressed back into the kiss harder, his tongue just sliding past Tyson’s lips. He felt warm all over, and sighed deeply when Gabe pressed forward and kissed the back of his neck.

Nate paused, and looked at Tyson.

“Are you sure?” he said. Tyson licked his lips, mouth suddenly dry, and nodded.

“Yeah, for sure,” he said. Gabe lifted his head from Tyson’s neck and from the corner of his eye Tyson saw him brush the hair out of his face and look at Nate.

“We're sure,” Gabe said quietly.

Tyson had to nearly completely turn over, but he watched Nate and Gabe kiss, rapt and warm all over his body, helplessly aroused. Gabe bit Nate’s bottom lip and Nate hissed, his hand coming up to grip Gabe’s shoulder.

“Fuck,” Gabe said, and pulled away to bury his face in the join of Tyson’s neck, taking a deep breath. Tyson pulled up a hand to pet Gabe’s hair gently.

“Good thing it’s the new moon,” Tyson said quietly, to both of them, smiling. Nate made a face. He was blotchy, with a slight red patch where Gabe’s beard had scratched him over his chin, where he normally had faint stubble.

“Why?” Nate asked, his mouth pulled to the side. Gabe laughed, the sound muffled and he nipped at Tyson playfully, with his flat human teeth.

“He's making fun of me,” Gabe said, looking up. He was pink, and smiling. Tyson was so fucking in love with him it was stupid. “The first time we kissed, it was the full moon that night, and I transformed by accident.”

Nate snorted.

“By accident?” he said. Gabe flushed an even deeper red. Tyson laughed, remembering it.

“He still had his suit on,” he said. Nate smiled, and then giggled, the laugh bursting out from behind his lips.

“Is that why you never wear your blue suit anymore?” Nate said, sniggering.

“Shut up,” Gabe said. “Come here and kiss me again.”

&&&

The new moon shrunk into waxing, and then, the time punctuated only by a few more lost games, it was full again. Gabe and Nate bullied him relentlessly, both of them possessive assholes who kept trying to herd him where they wanted him. It was a good thing they were both so handsome or Tyson would have gotten fed up with their bullshit a lot earlier.

Gabe insisted that Tyson had more outside space than Gabe’s condo, and he told the team the full moon party was at his house without asking permission, which was annoying until all the team and the various wives, girlfriends and boyfriends, assorted children from unknown sources, were all jammed into Tyson’s kitchen, eating finger food off his kitchen island. The room was too hot, and everyone was in everyone else's way but those were the best parties, just the people he liked together for no other reason than a bunch of them liked to transform into dogs at least once a month.

“Okay, okay!” Gabe shouted over the din, clapping his hands. “Everyone who wants to transform, out the back. Leave your stuff with the humans, we're not coming back here in the morning.”

Most of the players traipsed out the back, with a couple of the significant others tagging along. The rookies left their backpacks with G, who looked annoyed but tolerant. Mark's girlfriend took his stuff, and Sven and Nemo's stuff, since Nemo's girlfriend was changing too, and eventually everyone had a designated ‘human clothes’ custodian. Nate left everything but his shorts in a pile on Tyson’s sofa.

“What?” he said, when he caught Tyson giving him a look. “I _am_ coming back here.”

He was such an asshole. Tyson, God help him, loved it. He threw a dish towel at him.

“You just don't want to do any cleaning,” He said, and Nate shrugged, like _uh yeah obviously_. Outside, one by one, Tyson could hear the loud sucking noises that meant the pack were transforming.

“Go on, get out there, Gabe’s waiting,” Tyson said, and snapped the dish cloth he was holding in Nate’s direction, who dodged away. He waited long enough until the sounds of transformations had completely stopped, and stuck his head out the patio door. It was dark outside, just the glow of his back house light, and the moon, bright and full. They were such a weird looking pack. The European wolves were huge, and imposing. Mikko was definitely the biggest, but Gabe and Nemo, even Nail, were all big, broad-shoulder and thick-furred. JT and Josty were play fighting, two dogs rolling around in the mud, and EJ was already barking at them. Gabe snapped at his leg until he shut up. Tyson smiled and closed the patio door. The pack would run until they got tired, and go back to their humans in the morning.

&&&

G, and Ian, who were both human, stayed behind to help Tyson clean up the remains of the party, and then went home, both of them carrying a bag of werewolf clothes. Tyson moved Nate and Gabe’s piles of clothes to the laundry room and then, tired and bored, fell asleep, feeling cold in a bed not full of overheated werewolf.

He woke up wrapped so tightly in the duvet that he had to roll back and forth to free himself, his alarm ringing annoyingly the whole time. He swiped it off when he was free, and then lay there, swiping around on instagram and facebook, until he heard barking outside the patio.

“Urgh,” he said to himself, into the pillow. It was 8 in the morning on a Sunday. On a rest day. Could his werewolf boyfriends not let themselves into the house? Apparently not. The barking continued.

Tyson levered himself up from bed, and dug around in his drawer until he found a pair of shorts and an old t-shirt of Nate’s. It was too big for him, but he didn’t care. He shuffled sleepily into the living room, and then to the patio door, yanking it open without looking outside. He only looked down for a second to see where he was putting his bare foot, and then recoiled in horror.

“Ahhhh!” he screamed, and then felt embarrassed for screaming and looked around quickly. It was his own backyard, there wasn’t anyone looking. He heard the sound of scratching sounds on the patio stone, and then Gabe came bounding around the corner at a run, Nate just behind him. Both of them were sweaty and dirty from a night running around, but there was a deep brown smear all around Nate’s muzzle that marked him out as the culprit right away. Tyson pointed at him, and then pointed at the disembowelled rabbit he had nearly stepped in.

“Did you _kill a rabbit_ for me?” he said, although it was probably more like shouting because he had just nearly stepped in dead rabbit guts and was feeling a bit hysterical. “Nate, oh my fucking god.”

He was expecting Nate to transform, no matter how bad manners it was, but he just hunkered down and whined, moving back and forth on his front paws. It was classic “dog that knows it’s done something bad” and Tyson felt like an asshole for shouting.

“No, stop it,” he said, waving his finger. “Stop making me feel bad, I know it was you.”

Nate whined louder, and inched forward, as if he could guilt Tyson enough into petting him, despite the fact that it would require reaching around the dead rabbit on his patio. He looked at Gabe.

“DId you know about this?” Tyson said accusingly, and Gabe yapped back, as if Tyson was going to argue with him while he was a wolf. Tyson crossed his arms.

“I am not arguing with you while you’re a dog, I always lose these arguments,” he said. Gabe yapped at him again, and it sounded suspiciously like he was being laughed at. Tyson made a rude gesture at him, and then jumped when he felt something wet press against his leg. He looked down and Nate had shoved his cold wet nose against the join of his leg by his knee. He looked up at Tyson and whined again, pressing his face against Tyson’s leg. He guessed it was supposed to be cute, or something, but instead it was just smearing old rabbit blood and dog sweat on Tyson’s leg.

“Oh my god,” Tyson said, looking at the sky. “I am going back inside, the two of you are transforming back, and then one of you is gonna clean up this damn rabbit.”

He stomped back into the house, and scrubbed the blood off his calf with a washcloth, feeling annoyed with everything, himself, his good-for-nothing boyfriends, the crappy hockey team he played for, the feeling of losing all the time. This feeling crept up on him at the most unexpected times. He was a professional, and he supposed losing was a part of the whole miserable gig. He should be grateful. He dropped the washcloth in the kitchen sink and ran the tap over his hands till the water ran clear.

He heard someone behind him, and turned a little, still holding his hands away from himself over the sink. It was Gabe, bare-chested,

“What?” he snapped, and then winced. They had talked about leaving the rink at home, or well he and Gabe had talked and Nate had shrugged and said “sure, yeah” because he thought he was the chillest guy on earth when in reality he was about as chill as a toddler throwing a tantrum in the grocery store. Tyson had done everything possible to shove down the treacherous, uncontrollable feelings he had, and he hated showing how truly uncontrollable they were in front of anyone, let alone Gabe.

Gabe crossed his arms and leaned against the kitchen counter, watching Tyson dry his hands.

“Nate’s cleaning the rabbit up,” he said, quietly, only raising his eyebrows a little. “He says he’s sorry.”

“Yeah, well,” Tyson said, and then stopped, still drying his hands pointlessly. He didn’t know what he meant. Gabe reached out, and curled his hand around the point of Tyson’s shoulder, pulling him in gently, until he was wrapped tightly in a hug. Gabe kissed the side of his face, and the his ear.

“It’s good to be back,” he said.

“You were gone one night,” Tyson grumbled into Gabe’s shoulder. “I’m fine.”

“Mmmhh, come cuddle me on the sofa,” Gabe said, and walked them, still in the hug, backwards to the sofa. Tyson fought at him a little with his arms, but Gabe let him and kept cuddling him, until he’d arranged them on the sectional, Tyson’s back pressed up against his chest. Gabe yanked one of the blankets off the back off the back of the sofa to pull over both of them, and then turned the tv on. It was on NHL Network, and they were showing a compilation of them getting scored on. Gabe changed the channel quickly. It was Golden Girls. He put the remote down, and tucked his nose behind Tyson’s ear, inhaling deeply.

“I don’t like sleeping alone,” Tyson said, into the open, empty air in front of the tv. If he didn’t look at Gabe, they didn’t have to talk about any of it, the losing, the trade rumours, Gabe and Nate’s increasingly frantic need to transform at the slightest provocation. They were all treading water. Gabe tightened his arms around Tyson’s middle and dug his nose harder into his neck, where Tyson knew he could smell the sour scent of sleep, Tyson’s dinner, and whatever his shampoo smelled like, all the things that he knew Nate and Gabe smelled every day but he had no sense of.

He heard noise in the hall, and then Nate came into the living room. He must have transformed and come through the front door. His hair was wet from a shower and he was wearing his old Moosehead sweater, which he only ever did when he was feeling fragile. He thought he wasn’t predictable, but Tyson had his number. He look pretty sheepish.

“Aw, you’re cuddling without me?” he said, and made a face he thought was cute. Tyson waved at him.

“It’s not our fault you had to clean up your murder victim,” he said, but let Nate climb onto the sectional and press himself up against Tyson’s side. Between the two of them, Tyson felt overwarm and a bit sweaty, and like none of his thoughts and fears ( _Maybe LA? Or Florida? That wouldn’t be so bad_ , said one of those fears, which always sounded like his mother.) could fight themselves up into his throat, like the weight of two werewolves could hold him in Denver.

“I’m sorry about the rabbit,” Nate said quietly, all of them looking at the tv but not really watching. Tyson sighed. “It was stupid of me,” Nate finished, and Tyson felt bad, again, for yelling.

“Why on earth did you do it?” he asked. Nate shrugged, his entire huge body moving, Tyson feeling it from this legs to his shoulders.

“I dunno,” he said. “I knew you were sad, and when you're changed everything seems...simpler. I just wanted to bring you something home.”

“Next time just bring me a cool stick or something,” Tyson said. Gabe snorted behind him. Nate scratched at Tyson’s arm with his teeth.

“I’m not a dog,” he said grumpily. “I was trying to do something nice.”

Tyson breathed deeply and rocked a little, deeper into the warmth of Gabe and Nate around him. He didn’t want to argue, there was nothing he was actually mad about, he just wanted somewhere to put the constant low boil of frustration and anger that sat in the pit of his stomach. It was almost sweet that Nate had wanted to do something for him, even if it was weird. Nate was so supernaturally mature about everything, and had been taking the downspin better than all of them, so it was easy to forget that he was still young, and it was a year of his career down the drain for him as well.

Tyson turned his head a little, to look down at Nate curled up against his side.

“Thanks for trying Mac,” he said, and leaned down to kiss him, catching only a glimpse of Nate’s sweet smile. They kissed, the three of them, back and forth, round in circles, the easy pattern to all their make-out sessions, warm and lush, until Nate’s stomach rumbled loudly and they all laughed. It was the day after the moon, and Gabe and Nate would be relaxed, easy-going and pleased with themselves, for the next several days. Tyson liked to take advantage of their good humour to get out of cooking dinner, and sleep with their arms around him. They played another game tomorrow, and then a couple of homestands, and then a long roadie that would take them straight through to the new moon, when everyone would be sore and prickly, wolves trapped in hotel rooms and parking lots. They would probably lose those games. It was okay. There would be another full moon soon.

&&&

The last regular season game happened in a series of overly-clear moments, when Tyson was on the ice, and intense, adrenaline-fueled moments of stress on the bench. He watched G pummel in the first goal, and banged his stick against the boards, felt the bump in his arm when G skated by to celebrate, but it was like it was happening to someone else, to a body far away from him.

Each shift happened automatically, his skates in the ice, his eyes up. They weren't going to lose.

He pulled back before the puck was even to him. He had no idea if it would go in, but the movement in his shoulder was smooth, the solid, rewarding sound of the puck hitting his stick and then, gloriously, the sound of the goal horn. He put his arms up and Gabe hit his side and he looked at him like _hey that went in!_ Gabe grinned, and he wasn’t wearing a mouthguard, Tyson could see his square human teeth, and then the pointed incisors that had dropped down and that only just fit inside his human mouth. He looked like he was going to eat every single player on the ice alive.

He wasn’t looking when Gabe chipped the puck, but when he turned around it was in the air and every single player, on the ice and on the bench, was watching it with laser precision. For a second, it felt as if everyone was holding their breath, even though Tyson could hear the crowd, the refs, the scratching of skates on the ice.

The puck went in. Everyone fucking booked it towards Gabe like they had a fire under their ass. Nate got there first, roaring, fur sprouting at the curve of his neck and out of his gloves, and then Mikko, his mouth open and his canines fully out, his shout of joy turning into a howl.

Gabe went down onto the ice, all of them falling after him. EJ was howling, and everyone on the ice was piling on, a wriggling, howling mountain of players. Tyson collided with it, and the wind went out of him right away, but breathing didn't matter. They were going to the playoffs! It wasn't just a dream, the thought that Tyson tried not to look at for fear of jinxing it. They were going to the playoffs!

He played the rest of the game like he was in a dream. Not sleepily, he could still play, but it was dream-like in quality, without conscious thought, every movement completely natural. The cheering started before the clock ran down, and he could see the seconds ticking over even as everyone skated to a stop, the Blues heads down. Gabe grabbed his shoulder, as he skated over, and then they were all grabbing each other. Some of them had got a handle on their emotions, and Nate’s fur had receded, Gabe’s incisors had shrunk back down to small human points, but others were pretty close to losing it. Mark looked like the only thing keeping him from transforming completely was his gear, and the fact they were still on the ice. EJ was laughing infectiously, and kept pressing his face up against G’s helmet, in the space between his head and shoulder, bending down to nose against his pads. They were all giddy with it. Who cared about what came next? They had proved everyone wrong; they had wiped clear the shame of last year; they had another chance.

The dressing room was more of the same. Coach came and said he was proud of them, and that they had done what needed to be done. G got the special helmet, and he held it between his hands, sitting at his stall, looking at it like he had no idea how it had arrived in his hands. Gabe shouted, waving his arms until everyone shut up for a second.

“I know everyone wants to celebrate,” he said, grinning, one hand on his hip, and Tyson licked his hips. Winning looked good on him. Gabe’s gaze cut across to him. “We’ll meet at Tyson’s. I wanna see everyone there. We did it guys.”

Someone cheered, and they all clapped, or banged something against their stall, and Mikko dropped his jaw and howled, until it was a wall of happy noise, all of it at Gabe, who was still smiling, almost helplessly. Tyson had been on a team with werewolves for a long time now, and it wasn’t human noise, it was just animal, but it felt like home, and he wished he could howl too.

The three of them had taken Nate’s car to the rink, but it was Tyson who climbed into the driver’s seat, when they finally got out to the parking garage.

“Hey,” Nate said. “It’s my car.”

Tyson held his hand out and gestured for the keys.

“I’m not having you transform behind the wheel, get in the car Nate,” he said, and Nate dropped the keys in his hand, grumbling. Gabe didn’t even comment on it, just climbed into the back seat and argued with Nate over the music choice while Tyson tried to keep his eyes on the road, his mind on the driving. _Take that trade rumours_ he thought viciously, and then squashed that thought with extreme prejudice.

When they finally got home, a couple of the guys’ cars already trailing them, Gabe didn’t even wait to go into the house, just toed off his shoes in the car and walked straight through the side gate, pulling his shirt over his head. It was April, it wasn’t exactly balmy, but Gabe just stripped until he was standing naked in the backyard. Tyson watched him from the gate, not sure whether he was intruding.

Gabe looked over his shoulder and raised an eyebrow. There were the sounds of the team arriving in the driveway.

“Are you coming?” Gabe asked impatiently, and then, without missing a beat, transformed. Tyson sucked in a huge breath. He’d never just straight up watched Gabe transform before, without averting his eyes a little, and it was almost underwhelming, the sucking noise and then between one blink and the next Gabe was gone and a huge wolf was in his place.

Gabe barked, and other barks from behind Tyson answered him, and then a familiar golden retriever came sprinting past, EJ, and Mark, and Mikko's giant grey wolf hot on his heels. They hit each other hard, going down in a tangle of limbs and fur, barking and yelping. Mikko got EJ pinned for a second, and then more people were arriving and transforming, not caring who saw. Tyson couldn't keep track. He pulled a couple of his lounge chairs out for the humans. and the pile of shorts and towels Nate and Gabe usually left by the door for transformations, and then he gave up trying to manage the madness and just let it unfold. Nate changed back and they made out in a lounger for ages, Nate just in his shorts, his hands up Tyson’s shirt.

The wolves on the team were changing back and forth, indiscriminately, playing catch in and out of wolf form. Mikko and Gabe ran until they tired themselves out. They lay wrapped around each other at the foot of the lounger, Mikko’s head on Gabe’s back, Tyson’s feet tucked into Gabe’s fur where he was warm. He hadn’t had a single drink, but he felt drunk, giddy and happy and overwhelmed with it. This must be what the full moon felt like, surrounded by your pack.


End file.
